


Eyes Gone Dry

by ListenClose



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, But really just messed up Dean, Character Study, Dean's mind is a dangerous place, Heel!Dean, How Do I Tag, M/M, Overuse of italics, What am I doing, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ListenClose/pseuds/ListenClose
Summary: He clung to Seth as tightly as he could, pathetic, desperate to touch his skin even if it was only to tear it apart. To be torn apart. It was relentless and seemingly eternal, and it felt right. Like they were destined for each other, one way or another, like suffering together was better than being content apart. Then Seth wasn't there, but Dean still was.Dean remembers being alone.





	Eyes Gone Dry

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologize for this rambling trash. Heel Dean is endlessly fascinating and that's my best excuse.

There was a time that being out in the desert meant calm. When it was a training ground and meditation retreat combined, and he'd return home stronger and more at peace. Now that's gone. Now when Dean heads out into the desert, he runs until his lungs burn, climbs as high as he can and sits atop red rocks waiting for that zen but it doesn't come. Instead his mind won't shut up, racing and spinning and making him  _remember_  things.

 

And oh, he remembers a lot of things. He remembers Seth, young and brash and too good for him, shouting that he was the best there'd ever be. He remembers a Seth determined to shine, willing to make any kind of allegiances that would suit that agenda. A pretty mouth and even prettier eyes; beautiful secrets whispered to him in long dark nights.There were times in the beginning that he felt like he was losing control, but he was always centered by Seth's hands on the sides of his face and Seth's voice in his ear. He relied on that, trusted it like he'd never trusted before. He remembers pacing hotel corridors in the dead of night before finally knocking on Seth's door, being welcomed by strong arms and a soft heart. Seth swearing they were family, no, more than that, more than anyone could possibly imagine. That bleached white streak shining in the rising sun as validation poured from perfect lips. Kissing them during lazy afternoons split between plotting world domination and exploring each other's bodies. 

 

He remembers all of them crowned in gold; his family deified, finally, claiming the roles they'd been born to play. Dean remembers looking around, feeling the satisfying weight of his own championship and seeing the gold on his brothers' shoulders. He remembers how it made him feel and he wishes that he didn't because it was perfect,  _they_  were perfect and he'd finally understood happiness and now he might never feel it again.

 

He remembers that one word, only ever spoken in hushed tones and so fragile, never to dwell on, because who feels love in this business and lives to tell the tale?

 

He'll never forget the sound of the chair hitting Roman's back. The moment that time stood still. Not wanting to turn around because he knew what he'd see and he wasn't ready, how could he ever be ready for that? Looking Seth in the eye -  _you knew better than this you should never have let him in you knew this would happen -_  and resigning himself to whatever came next. He could have taken a thousand blows; he didn't feel them.

 

_ Why? How could he? _ _ How did you fuck this up, what did you do?  _ _ _

 

He clung to Seth as tightly as he could,  _pathetic_ , desperate to touch his skin even if it was only to tear it apart. To be torn apart. It was relentless and seemingly eternal, and it felt right. Like they were destined for each other, one way or another, like suffering together was better than being content apart. Then Seth wasn't there, but Dean still was. 

Dean remembers being alone. 

_This is why you don't let people in, you can't notice their absence if they were never there._

The long nights gripping his phone so tight it left marks in his hand, wondering if he should call Seth. Wondering what he'd say. Wondering if there's a way to tell the person you love, the person you hate, that they deserve their pain and you'd do anything to make it stop. 

_Wasting so much time on someone who never cared about you._

The mornings he couldn't wake himself up, Roman dragging him through hotel corridors, dragging him through endless tour stops, dragging him  _through_. Leaning on Roman, trusting him to have his back and  _taking it for granted, you didn't deserve-_ and Dean tries but he can't make his mind shut up about that no matter what he does. 

 

He remembers the feeling in his stomach seeing Seth come back and how it never really went away until Seth was standing with his back to Dean, practically begging to be beaten with a steel chair to atone for his sins. Realizing that he'd lost all of his rage somewhere along the way, not sure if that's what he ever really felt. He remembers telling himself it was stupid, and that Seth would always be a snake. But those eyes were bright and more open than they'd been in years and all Seth wanted was forgiveness. And he took a breath, knowing that forgiving Seth might be the worst mistake he'll ever make, but then he does it anyway because he's weak, can't say no to Seth even after all this time.

_And was it strange, that Seth finally got his forgiveness and jumped straight into chasing championships? Probably not. It's just what happens, it's just how the business works. But he left you for a championship and now he wants you back and gets another title and it's hard not to wonder, it's hard not to look back and ask yourself if that meant something._

 

And when he's hurt, Seth doesn't call and Dean doesn't think much of it until he does. Until it's all he can think about, day and night,  _is this because you didn't call him when he was hurt?_ And it's different, it should be different, because he didn't do anything to Seth except let him down by getting hurt. But still Seth doesn't call, and Dean almost calls him but he knows Seth's probably busy. Seth's life goes on without Dean and it's not  _fair_ , because Dean could barely function without Seth in close proximity. 

_Should never have given him that hold on you._

Dean remembers Seth's face when he came back, lit up like a kid at Christmas, bouncing with excitement. And he smiled and laughed and shared his bed because hadn't he been waiting for this too? But nothing felt right. There was something sitting under his skin. He snapped and raged and felt those hands on his face, saw those eyes lock with his own and it should have brought calm but it  _didn't help._

_Why didn't he call, why didn't he just pick up the phone one time, why does he only care now?_

Seth gets his championships, and Dean doesn't know if that's all their partnership ever meant to him. Something snaps.

 

_Because you can't trust him, never should have trusted him to begin with._  

 

The thing about remembering is that it's easier not to. If he could stop thinking about half of this stuff, he could look Seth in the eye and say he was sorry and try to work it out. Ask Seth to forgive him. If Dean could do it, Seth could.  _It's not the same, Seth did worse_. And maybe everything could go back to how it was - but what does that even mean at this point?

 

_Now you're alone again and nobody's going to drag you through it this time._

 

Which Seth does he want? There have been a dozen variations on the theme. The hero, liar, the thief, the chosen one. He remembers all of them but doesn't remember which was best. Enemy, brother, lover. Rinse and repeat. 

 

_All you're good for is hurting each other._

 

Which Dean does he want to be? Which Dean is he  _now_ , because lately there's an old familiar darkness rising up him that he thought was dead and buried. But then he looks at Seth and he wants to tear his perfect face off, he wants to make him  _bleed_. He wants Seth to make  _him_  bleed, wants to be torn apart.  _Seth could kill you and you'd thank him for it; weak, always so weak for him, for them._

He wants to be able to say he doesn't need them, but he does. Maybe he'll always need them. So he has to kill that part of himself.

 

_If you can make Seth look at you the way he did when you hated him, it'll be easier._

~~_I never hated him._ ~~


End file.
